Page 67 of Reluctant Heir

Viktor ignores me for the rest of the courses, talking over me to the man on my left or conversing with someone else on the other side of the table. I try to watch him out of the corner of my eye, but I get a weird sensation that he knows I’m doing it, so I stop.

Finally, he sets his fork down, rising, and the room quiets again.

“Would everyone care to move to the parlor?” he asks, but it’s not a question.

Everyone stands and files toward the door, and I follow the crowd, unsure of where I’m going. Connor steps beside me, and my nerves start to ease. I didn’t like sitting away from him, feeling like a spectacle at Viktor’s side. I don’t want to be a pawn, but I’m afraid that’s all that I’m going to be here.

“What did Viktor talk about with you?” Connor whispers, confirming my earlier suspicion.

“He only wanted to know about me,” I whisper back.

“And?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

We can’t whisper anymore since we are walking through the double doors of the room Viktor calls a parlor. It sounds like something old and fancy, and it definitely fits the bill. There are ornate couches spread around for people to sit on, a few small tables with plush chairs, and a minibar along the wall, stocked with every liquor you could want. I think this might be a place where you sit to be seen and underhanded business deals take place in the quiet corners.

“Wryn,” Lilliana says, rushing toward me and pulling me in for a hug. “I can’t believe you are here.” She pulls back, raking her gaze up and down me with a broad smile. “I told you this dress would look amazing on you. And, gasp, I was right.” She actually says thegasppart, drawing it out dramatically.

She pulled the long cobalt-blue dress for me during our shopping trip, insisting that I buy it, and I gave in to her, secretly loving the garment for myself. I even put it on in the privacy of my room as soon as I got home, running my hands down the heavy, expensive material as I stared at myself in the mirror. I was unrecognizable.

I love the way it hugs my curves. The sweetheart neckline with tiny straps makes my breasts look incredible, and there is a long slit up one side that shows a peek of leg as I walk. It makes me feel beautiful.

“Yes, you were,” I tell her.

She grabs one of my hands, pulling me away from Connor, who is talking to someone else, and toward a couch.

Halfway there, I spy a grand piano in one corner and gasp. Lilliana lets go of my hand, and I walk toward it. I’ve never been around an instrument of this size or caliber, and I reverently stop in front of it. My fingers itch to set down on the ivory, to push them and hear the hammer strike the string. I bet this piano is tuned to perfection.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Viktor’s breath skims my shoulder, as he’s so close behind me.

I turn my head slightly to look at him, and he reaches one hand out, laying it along the sleek mahogany finish.

“She’s restored, from 1948. Do you play?”

I look back at the keys and shake my head. “I had a foster dad who played, and he taught me some things. I once had an electric keyboard, but I don’t anymore.” I stop, knowing that I revealed more about myself than I’d wanted to.

“Sit, play something for me,” he says, pressing one hand to my lower back.

I step forward and sweep my dress around the piano bench, sitting. I trail one finger along the white keys, not pressing down. If I play something, it will bring attention to me. Attention I don’t want. But I have Viktor standing here, staring down at me with a ferocious intensity.

I place both hands in position and start in on one of my favorites—“Hallelujah”by Leonard Cohen. It has never failed to make me happy as I play the chords. It’s haunting and beautiful at the same time. My fingers flow across the keys, playing the melody, and I lose myself to the sound, unaware if others have stopped to listen or not. I know Viktor is still watching as I play. I can feel his eyes on my skin, searing, and I don’t like it. I wish he would leave.

I continue to play until the song is over, and then I glance up, realizing that everyone in the room is focused on me, on us, by the piano.

“Magnificent,” Viktor says. “You have a real gift.”

“It’s nothing,” I say with a small shrug, and he nods once.

“Then, so it is,” he says, as if he agrees with me, though I don’t believe he would toss out compliments so freely if he didn’t mean them. “Tell me, what are you here for?”

I frown, searching his face as I debate on what to say. I know Connor wants his sister back, but I don’t think this man would give her up so quickly if he wants control.

“I’m here with Connor,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

The murmurs of conversation start back up around us, and Viktor moves to sit beside me. He presses one thigh along the side of my leg; it’s not in a suggestive way, but more in a controlling way, as if he’s letting me know he can do anything he wants right now, including me.

He can’t. I wouldn’t let him.

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